Shattered
by shatteredxstars
Summary: Takes place at the ending credits of Twilight Princess/afterwards. Note: THIS MEANS SPOILERS IF YOU HAVE NOT FINISHED THE GAME. Will make more of a summary as I continue. MidnaxLink.
1. Chapter 1

She turned to face the mirror chamber, a light breeze flowing across the scorching desert. Her throat was knotted but not a bit of it showed on her face. She even managed a thin smile.

"Thank you," she murmured, intending it for both Link and Zelda, but her eyes only held the Hero's. He had been through so much, all for her. The faint scars on his skin, the hidden exhaustion in his light blue eyes…this whole thing had been her, her world, a touch of his world, and it was almost all of her doing. Zant had cast the Twilight upon their light world, but it was she who forced the Hero into submission, forced him to help her.

He was more than willing toward the end of the two years. Two years. She couldn't change the past. She couldn't change what she had put him through. But she could change it from ever happening again. She continued on, hoping to hide her coming intentions.

"Well, the princess spoke truly: as long as that mirror's around, we could meet again…"

However, as bold as she may have liked to be, her emotions were besting her. Twili were raised on coldness and apathy; emotions were new to her and this one was no exception. In the last few months of their journey, she had grown rather fond of the Hero. The way he spoke to her, so gently, the way he cared for her through his trials of pain. He was so kind and gentle and considerate; _he was too good for her—to good for anyone, really. Just her especially. _Shadow and light did not mix. Zelda had a flaw in her speech there. Midna thought about telling Link these strange feelings. But she couldn't manage. She closed her eyes so she didn't have to meet his gaze.

"Link…" She felt a single golden tear fall from her eye, though she made no move to stop it. Instead, she urged it forward, allowing it to travel to the mirror's face. "I…See you later," she murmured quietly, watching as the single golden tear met with the mirror's surface. It illuminated a moment, spread, and cracks begin to sound. Link and Zelda turned in alarm to the sound, both holding a collective gasp. Link looked back to Midna hurriedly; she avoided him. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her be so weak. Instead, she remained as stoic as she could, but the act broke quickly and she smiled. It was the last one she would give him. She felt the other side begin to pull, and she dissolved into fine white crystals before them before she disappeared entirely.

In her absence, the mirror shattered.

Two hearts followed in wake.

In the Twilight Realm, the Princess fell to her knees.

In The Light world, The Hero was without a Heroin.


	2. Chapter 2

_She had to break the mirror. _

It was the only way to keep Ganondorf from hurting her world ever again. She'd put her faith in a fool and that had ended rather badly. Now not only she had to suffer from the course of her actions but her people did as well.

_She had to break the mirror._

She repeats this to herself every day but Midna cannot bring herself to believe it in full. It is a weak attempt at a desperate scramble for some kind of consolation. Things did not have to take such a drastic turn. She clenches her fist and turns away from the portal. This feeling will pass. She squares her shoulders. Pulls her lavender lips into a smile for her people. They are glad and light-hearted at her return, but she has never felt so broken.

Is this the world she wants?

The days pass and go on.

_She had to break the mirror._

It was not only for her people but for herself. It was easier this way. Had she left the mirror in tact, she would be torn between two worlds. Her Palace of Twilight and the Hero's Light World. That was no way for a Princess to behave. A Princess was to hunger for her world and her people, and that alone. She should not so desperately want that which she simply cannot have.

Yet she does.

_She had to break the mirror._

She had to break herself.

_The mirror shards disappear like fine crystals. There are no pieces of glass to put back together. There are no leftovers. There are no remnants. It is gone and it will never be re-created. It is done._

Link chokes as he swallows. Words are not said though he's never needed them to express his feelings. The Princess Zelda glances to him, perhaps speechless, though her blue eyes hold a wave of sympathy. She is holding his gaze, using her sky blue eyes to pity him, to offer her comfort.

But that is not what he wants. Not at all. He runs a hand over his jaw, ducks his head, and climbs down the mirror chamber's steps. He cannot be here any longer.

_What had she been about to say? _

"_Link…I…see you later." _Those words sliced him, burned him, had him gasping for breath more than any physical wound ever could have.

These were not wounds that could be fixed by a hot spring or a gentle hand. These wounds, these words were only ebbed from their ferocity by the thought of the very one who had given them returning. She was the only cure and yet she was the endless poison. She was the problem and the solution.

Link blinks slowly, the wind lifting the tip of his hat.

The empty mirror frame scrapes his heart against his ribs. Makes his mouth go dry like he's barely even trying to breathe. Though, in a wild moment of regret, the Hero sees no point in the activity of pulling air to his lungs. Adjusting his gloves, he walks slowly. The sun has well past set and he and Zelda need to get back to Hyrule. Link is not in the mood to battle without his now-lost companion.

He trudges on. Feels the desert sand, hot even through his boots.

He wishes he didn't feel at all.


	3. Chapter 3

"_Tell me…do you ever feel a strange sadness as dusk falls?"_

With Zelda safely returned to Hyrule Castle, Link rides to Ordon village. It is his home, though; nothing quite feels like home anymore. It doesn't seem to be a word that holds meaning. Rain has began to fall, and with the heat of Gerudo desert faded from his weary bones, it feels more like pinpricks of ice against Link's face.

He doesn't push Epona; the fight with Ganondorf wore her out just as much as it did him. The two reach Ordon village as the sky darkens ever so slightly, caught somewhere between the blush of midday and the cloak of night. Twilight. The lump rises again in Link's throat and he pulls Epona to a stop just outside of his house. He takes off her bridal, massaging her muzzle gently.

Ilia, who had been waiting ever so patiently, steps from the trail, beaming both happily and uncertainly at once. Link freezes, obscurely aware that he should look pleased to see her as well. She has been his friend from the start, his support when he first left for Hyrule. She told him to be safe. She did not warn his heart not to beat for someone else.

After a hasty parting and not much explanation for it, he climbs the ladder deftly and opens the door to his house. He is quick to gather wood and chuck it in the fireplace, lighting a match and watching the embers flare to life. Since leaving the desert, he has felt an unnatural chill take hold of his body and he couldn't seem to shake it.

Link watches the fire a moment, transfixed. He finds himself imagining the orange and red flames balling into a fist and helping him get into the twilight. A hand, flaring out to defeat enemies. A hand, vanishing back to the spiky hair of a red-eyed imp. A hand, reaching out, reaching for him…reaching…the prick of pain in his fingertips snaps Link back to reality. He moves his hand back from the flames, almost reluctantly, shaking his head a moment.

He stands, dismantles the shield and sword, setting them aside. He pulls the tunic over his head, letting it fall to the ground. He gets a good look at it that way. The tears in the fabric from countless swords, the blood, the dirt. He almost grimaces. Almost. He finds a seat on the edge of the bed, folding his hands between his knees. He ducks his head, removing his hat and running a slow hand through his shaggy blonde hair, down the back of his neck. Lets out a slow sigh from his nose. He watches the fire a moment longer, glancing at the shapes it makes in shadows on the wall. Where is his shadow now?

"_Tell me…do you ever feel a strange sadness as dusk falls?"_

Midna watched silently. Before it all began, before Link knew she even existed, she was with him. She watched as he sat near the edge of the Ordon spring with his mentor.

She thinks of the mentor's words now, and just how accurate they were. Could he feel it? The remorse she had for breaking the mirror, the horrible way she felt? This should not have been. She was the Twilight Princess, the Queen of the Palace of Twilight. She held her head high and for what? To regret breaking the one link she had to a few light dwellers? She clenches her hands into fists, holds her tongue. Puts on the greatest show she has to give for her people. They must know that she is nothing but elated to have them back.

"_They say it's the only time our world intersects with theirs…The only time we can feel the lingering regret of spirits who have left our world…"_

She left, the mirror shattered. She left; her heart followed the mirror's wake. As a queen to her people, she should have felt surrounded, supported, powerful. She should have felt secure and pleased. As the other Twilians would retire for sleep, she would make her way up the hill. Up the hill, to the landing. The landing where, though it was useless, the platform to the light world remained. Even in the twilight, it glowed faintly.

Midna crouches, tracing the design with her fingertips. It is gold, just like the orb in the sky in the light world. It is gold, like the radiant light. It is gold, just like the hero's hair. It is his hair in the breeze, ruffled by wind and warmed by the orb, warmed by the sun, warmed…so warm…and all of a sudden, the princess takes her hand away, because the seal is far _too _ warm, almost scalding. How funny a thing should occur.

She stands, turns away, her cloak swirling about her ankles. She cannot be seen lingering there. It would mean weakness, holding on so tightly to something she cannot possibly hope to grasp again. And perhaps that is what makes her feel the most isolated of all. She makes her way back to the palace, a mere slip of shadow as the clouds of twilight loom overhead. A shadow. But what is a shadow without the one who casts it?

"…_That is why loneliness always pervades the power of twilight."_


End file.
